


taking the long way

by cinderlily



Series: living next door to alice [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It started with a phone call." </p><p>Patrick and Jonny are suddenly given the opportunity to be parents. This is how they stumble through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	taking the long way

**Author's Note:**

> To say this wouldn't be here with out calliotrope would be a gross understatement. Seriously, I lost count of how many times I changed ideas, gave up, started over and changed again. And the cool part? SHE PUT UP WITH ME THE WHOLE TIME *AND* BETAED IT. You guys, she didn't even find a way to shiv me over the internet, which I'm sure would have been greatly understandable by any and all. 
> 
> fromiftowhen gave me absolutely awesome help, beta, encouragement and love that she always seems to give to me even when I'm being a whiner. (This might be a theme for me.) She seriously went above and beyond the call of service and I'm pretty sure this fic would be a thousand words shorter without her asking for the scenes that became my favorite. <3 
> 
> Both of them are seriously my favorites and I can't begin to thank them beyond HOLY CRAP. THANK YOU. 
> 
> johnnybabechuk on tumblr/musicspeakstoo on LJ gave me beautiful art you can find (HERE) and I AM SO THANKFUL for it. She also is just a sweet individual you should give some love to. (CONGRATS ON COLLEGE, LADY!) <3
> 
> (Any mistakes are still, obviously mine.)

It started with a phone call. 

A fucked up, horribly awkward, miserable phone call Jonny decided to forget the second it ended. Except Patrick had been hanging out nearby and never let anything go; it couldn’t just be something that they didn’t talk about. 

“Why do you look like you ate something nasty?” 

Jonny swallowed a few times. His mouth did taste weird. He rubbed his hands on his jeans and looked around the room, trying to think of the right way to start this.

“Remember Carly?” 

“That chick David was banging that I gave about four months?” 

Jonny flinched. “Yeah, that one.” 

Patrick came out of the kitchen and ambled towards where Jonny sat on the couch. “Hah! Was I right? She was all-wrong for him. She wanted adventure. They’d never work… What?” 

“She’s pregnant. ”

Patrick sat down heavily beside Jonny. “Well fuck me.” 

*

David and Jonny had never had the type of relationship one would call “deep.” Seeing as they were both out of the house and on the road young, their relationship stopped maturing at about twelve years old. 

Which made the tone in his brother’s voice even harder to handle. The last time that his brother had used that voice on him was when he called for advice on sneaking out of the billet house. (He couldn’t help then, what made him think he could help now?) 

“We can’t do this, Jon.” 

It was something like four in the morning. He had skate in about five hours, but there was no way he was getting off the phone. He rubbed his eyes and let his eyes land on a fast asleep Kaner, drooling less than a foot away. He slipped out of bed and into the hotel’s bathroom, leaving the lights off even after he shut the door. 

“Jonny?” 

His brother sounded desperate and he felt sick to his stomach. 

“Yeah, I’m here Dave.” 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do here? I mean. What am I supposed to do?” 

Jonny exhaled. He was the big brother. He was an adult. He was supposed to have some sort of answer. Like he had any fucking clue what to do here. 

“She doesn’t want it?” 

“She just finished school, man. She’s supposed to be moving abroad. I don’t even know where I’m going to be next season. Or if I’m going to try to play another year. I’m still in the AHL and... We CAN’T do this.” 

“There are options, you know that right? Adoption... options.” 

He’d always been intellectually pro-choice. Once he really admitted he was more in to guys than girls it just seemed out of the question. But this was family and it made it a lot harder to say it out loud. Even if he wanted what was best for his brother. 

“Carly doesn’t want...” David started, but stopped like he thought Jonny should jump in. Whatever he wanted Jonny to say seemed to go out the window a second later when his brother sighed heavily through the line. “You know what? Never mind, thanks.” 

And before he could respond the line was dead. 

He crept out of the bathroom and was just connecting his phone back to the charger when Patrick startled him. 

“What’s up?” he slurred. 

Jonny bit at the inside of his lip and slipped back into bed. He curled towards Patrick with an familiar sense of relief. In the years of them being together he had never felt more comfortable then when he was near Patrick in bed. In silent agreement they let what was said in bed stay in bed. They talked things out without fear of judgment. 

“They don’t want the baby.” 

“David?” 

Jonny nodded, his head bumping against Patrick’s neck. 

“Hmmm,” Patrick sighed, still sounding half asleep. “Adoption?” 

“I think they’re thinking about it.” 

“We should...” 

Before Jonny could ask what they should do Patrick was asleep. Jonny didn’t fall asleep for quite a while. 

*

“I think we should do it,” Patrick said across the breakfast table a few days later, as if they were in the middle of a conversation that Jonny had just spaced out on. Usually their nonsensical conversations made sense in a weird way. Jonny wracked his brain for ideas. 

When nothing came to mind he went with an eloquent, “Excuse me?” 

“Adopt the baby.” 

Jonny nearly dropped his protein shake leaving a huge stain down his shirt. “Dude, what the fuck?” 

“Language dude, language.” 

“This coming from the guy who could make a sailor blush.” 

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Even if it’s seven months away practicing the proper vocabulary now is imperative.” 

“Did you read a parenting book?” 

“So what if I did?” 

“WE AREN’T _PARENTS._ ” 

“WE _COULD_ BE,” Patrick mimicked. “Look David and Carly don’t want the kid. Aren’t ready for it or whatever.” 

Jonny blinked slowly. “And we are?” 

Patrick lifted his hand slowly ticked off his points on the tips of his fingers. “We have jobs that pay us crazy amounts AND give us GREAT benefits, we own a house together, we’re out together.” 

“We travel most of the year, we’re two dudes and we have no clue what to do with a baby,” Jonny retorted, also counting off on his fingers. “And, oh yea, what makes you think David OR Carly would be okay with handing off their child to random people? “

“We aren’t random, you freak. David’s your brother.”

Jonny raised a finger like he just found the point. “Exactly! Who would give their baby to their brother?” 

“Someone who wants their kid to go to a good home. How much better than a life we can offer this kid?” 

“We’re not married!” 

Patrick frowned. “So we’ll get married.” 

Jonny felt a good panic starting, but Patrick shrugged. 

“I’m not saying we have to make the decision in the next day, or even week. I just think we should talk about it. Or like. Do it. So think about it for a few days, yeah?” 

Under the table, Patrick curled their ankles together. It had been their thing for as long as they’d been dating and it meant one crucial thing: 

Jonny was doomed.

*

A few days later, Patrick sat across from Jonny with his game face on. Maybe a bit more scared than he usually seemed to be during a face off. But he nodded at Jonny and if Jonny tried to second guess himself they would be there all day so he just hit dial and then put the phone on speaker. 

“Jon?” 

“Hey Davey,” Jonny tilted his head forward, suddenly aware this was something they probably should have done in person. But the next break that would be long enough to visit wouldn’t be for weeks and he just. He needed to do it. 

He looked up to find Patrick already looking at him, half a smile on his face. 

*  
In general, during the season, it felt like his life was going in fast forward. He didn’t get a chance to breathe much outside of games, prep, conditioning and the occasional interview. So when he and Patrick skipped a day off to fly up to Pennsylvania (where David was playing and Carly was going to school) it was a cog in the smooth ride of his life. 

But they’d missed the first two ultrasounds and Patrick was adamant they’d miss a freaking game to get to the third. (Scheduling was thankfully in their favor; he didn’t want to be part of that fight.) 

Jonny didn’t want to find out the gender, based on some half made up superstition and a lot of fear. Patrick needed to know. Carly couldn’t care less. And there was a debate in the hall in front of the sonogram room, where Jonny almost pulled the genetics card but then let it go because the look on Patrick's face said that maybe if he pulled that the whole house of cards would fall.

The tech was nice, funny in that way that made Patrick cackle and Jon kind of cringe but appreciate it. She never went straight for the question of if they wanted to know, even if they’d talked about it a hundred times. She would go through the small amazing insides of the life forming. The heart beat, which at times looked the like little hearts imagined to be a heart. The blood flowing in (highlighted in blue) and out (highlighted in red), assuring them that everything was perfectly normal, in the closest way to normal life was ever going to get for them. 

“So we’ve decided?” she asked finally. 

“Yes.” They were all shocked when the word came out of Jonny’s mouth. 

She smiled, small and distorted in the weird dark light of the sonogram room. She started to type and her voice softened and pointed to what Jonny would describe as a dark blob.

“Say hello to your baby girl, daddies.” 

Luck entirely left a chair directly behind Jonny and he landed with out a sense of grace. 

‘It’s a girl.’ It read across the sonogram. 

Or it would be a girl.

Was a girl currently?

Jonny couldn’t wrap his brain around it at all. 

Even hours later, he sat with the little black print out in front of on the flight back and just stared at the words "It's a girl" because there was no way he could actually tell what was what in the mess of black and white.

"Girl," Patrick piped in occasionally. Like he was saying 'gold' or 'Stanley Cup'. Jonny was fairly certain it would be the same way if it was boy, but it didn't matter. He kept turning to Patrick to say something back, something witty or at least chirpy. (Like "Duh" or "Really? I didn't catch that the first forty times")

But fuck, it was a girl.

 

*

He always mocked TJ for how wrapped up he was in Lyla (and later Trey). 

The way TJ turned from the dude who helped Jonny build a four-foot tall snow phallus in front of their dorms, to the guy who sent him Snapchats of baby fingers. (Which, granted half the time were shaped into not appropriate hand signs, because he was still Oshie.) When, a few years later they added baby Trey to the family it went into all out discussions of how awesome everything was and it was… surreal. 

He’d texted TJ after, when he found out that the baby was a girl. With the amount of meltdowns he’d gotten from TJ in the decade they’d known each other, he was owed some pay back. (He could talk to Patrick, but he was trying to limit his meltdowns because it made Patrick give him this sad look... it wasn’t that he didn’t want the kid, right? It was just. Huge. Really freaking huge.) 

The phone had barely turned dark before it lit back up with TJ’s stupid face on the display. 

“DUUUUUUDE,” TJ didn’t even wait for him to say hi. “A GIRL! FUCK YEAH! I’ll tell Lauren to hook you up with some some of Lyla’s old pink crap.” 

“We don’t need hand me downs Teej,” Jonny frowned. “And aren’t you guys planning on having a scary little Oshie army? What if the next one’s a girl?” 

“Whatever, she’ll shop. Maaan. A girl. She’s doooomed. You AND Kaner keeping the boys at bay.” 

Maybe he’d over-estimated the help that TJ could provide. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

“Oh fuck me, you’re already spiraling, aren’t you?” 

“Possibly?” 

“JT, seriously? Take like five minutes and enjoy the concept of this baby. You’ve got five months to go over the game plan, then something like 18 years to screw it up.” 

Entirely comforting. 

“Dude,” TJ crowed. “ _Sofia the First._ ” 

“What the hell is that?” 

“You’ll know... oh man, you’ll know.” 

* 

His mother texted him every day. Not like she hadn’t done that BEFORE... well. Before. But the texts swiftly went from hockey- or Patrick-related to anything and everything baby related. 

“Have you decided on a nanny?” (Holy fuck, the baby wasn’t even twenty-four weeks.) 

“Do you have a name?” (That was a cluster bomb waiting to go off. Patrick joked he wanted to name her Patricia. Jonny countered maybe she should be called Byng. They both knew there was no way they were going with Chelsea. ) 

“Have you talked to your brother?” 

No. He hadn’t. He hadn’t talked to David since the conversation that ended up with him taking responsibility for the baby. His brother had sounded relieved. But since then? It had been all through Carly. Patrick had a direct line to her, using his innate ability to talk and have people fall with him, the one Jonny was always kind of jealous of.

He’d tried texting David. He’d tried calling. He’d even tried emailing. But it was radio silence and he guessed he got it. He couldn’t put himself in his brother’s shoes, but assumed that awkward wouldn’t even cover it. 

He wasn’t even sure what he’d say if David called him. 

When it was coming up on Carly’s third trimester (holy shit) Jonny finally broke down and pulled the dirty trick of telling his mom he hadn’t talked to David in months. It was cheap, yeah, underhanded and definitely not the first time he’d used the mom card, but whatever. It was four in the afternoon and Jonny sat in his car at the arena. He should be getting ready for the game that night, but he didn’t care. 

“I can’t believe you guilted me through mom,” David muttered across the line. 

“Well that’s what you get for not answering your brother for months, asshole.” 

David sighed. “What exactly do you want me to say?” 

“Talk about the freaking weather. Talk about hockey. Or hey man, the fact that I’m becoming a father in like two months and it’s something good for me. Talk about being scared or whatever. I’ll listen. I just want to know that by starting a family I won’t be losing one, too.” 

And holy fuck, he had to stop watching Dr. Phil with Patrick. That was probably the most emotion he’d shown his brother in the past four years. It felt like a punch to the stomach though, to get all of that out and to know (or hope at least) that David actually heard it. 

He laid his head down on the steering wheel as the silence lingered on. He’d almost figured that it was pointless to even try when his brother coughed. 

“I think I’m going to become a trainer.”

“...Yeah?” 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’m not going anywhere and I’m sick of podunk towns and buses that smell like piss. I think I might go back and get a degree and work with the pros.”

Jonny exhaled, voice feeling a little watery. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but you might have an in at the Blackhawks.” 

David laughed. 

It felt amazing. 

 

*

Patrick signed them up for the class without really talking to Jonny about it. Well, he might’ve talked to Jonny about it but without the concreteness of, “We are going to Chicago Memorial at 2:30 on Saturday.” 

“For what?” 

“For the parenting class. It should only run like three hours, tops.” 

His brain split into two even factions. 

One that thought what is going to take THREE HOURS to go over? And the other screamed ONLY THREE HOURS? WHO IS GOING TO GIVE US A BABY AFTER ONLY A THREE HOUR CLASS?

But they’d give them the baby with no classes required so maybe he was okay with a head start. He only let himself feel the panic for short controlled bursts of time. 

He’d never focused more on a three-hour session in his life. His notes looked like he was mapping out the Stanley Cup win. 

Only not, at all. Because a win was a win and that the worst you could expect was some kind of concussion. He thought he’d seen it all in that stupid delivery video they were forced to watch in sex ed but he was completely wrong. He doubted he would have to be in the room, though Patrick looked like he wanted to be (was he fucking nuts?). 

There were all these numbers thrown around: effaced, dilated, station. All of which were just basic ways of telling the woman she wasn’t nearly as far along as she thought was. Carly could be three centimeters dilated and just walking around. Like nothing. The baby could be LATE. 

It left Jonny feeling about as nauseated as the pregnant ladies in the class seemed to be. 

*

Carly’s due date was Bastille Day, but even Patrick agreed that they were showing up on July 1st and camping out in Pennsylvania till the baby showed up. (Even if it meant missing July 4th in Buffalo.) It ended up being a good idea, as they hadn’t even gotten the groceries in the fridge of the stupid little rental they’d gotten when both their phones lit up at the same time. 

Andree was calling Jonny and Carly was calling Patrick and if he had any time he might actually wonder how close Carly got with Patrick over the last few months and just how the fuck he missed it, but there was no time. There was just getting into his car and hoping he somehow got from his car to the hospital in one piece. 

It was part of Patrick that Jonny knew was meant only for friends, the serious low tone. Comfort and confidence. He sounded like he was talking to his sister, not a girl he’d met all of six times in person. 

The confidence seemed to wane a bit. They sat outside the hospital in tense silence for what felt like too long. 

Patrick unhooked his seatbelt and smiled. 

“Showtime.” 

*

At just past three in the morning on July 2nd, their daughter was born. 

(Jonny would rub in the fact that it was closer to Canada Day than Independence Day, but he was pretty sure he was running on fumes. No point wasting that energy.)

She was tiny. Actually, the doctor said that 6 lbs 1 oz was a healthy weight for a first born and that she was slightly early meant she missed out on a few key “fat building” weeks but it didn’t change it. The kid was small. And more white than pink. 

And theirs. 

He looked over at Patrick, whose head was cocked to the right and eyes were bright and shiny. It shouldn’t have shocked Jonny that Patrick would be the one to cry. Wasn’t that a part of this moment? But he didn’t feel like crying. He was looking at a baby. He was looking at his baby.

She yawned and her eyes half opened. 

Beside him Patrick lets out a soggy laugh. “She’s totally yours man, she’s already disappointed.”

Jonny supposed the glare he threw Patrick was probably not helping his cause. 

“Who wants to hold her first?” 

They practically hit heads as they turned to look at the nurse standing right above their daughter. She was rubbing her hands together as if to warm them up. (Should he do that? His hands were balled up fists at his side. He hadn’t wanted to touch her without permission. Did he need permission?) 

Patrick put his hands out and didn’t seem to notice that Jonny made no move to try for it. The nurse smiled at them both and picked her up. 

“Does she have a name?” she asked as she gently put her in Patrick’s arms. Patrick genuinely looked like he was made to hold her. It actually shocked Jonny, though it shouldn’t. He had always been the first to go to homes and congratulate the guys on their kids. 

“Alice,” Patrick filled the silence. “Alice Lee Toews-Kane.” 

“Sweet.” She nodded her head.

Jonny fought the urge to preen with the approval. 

*

They had to drive home, apparently. Because you couldn’t fly with a baby as young as Alice without a doctor’s approval and even WITH a doctor’s approval Jonny wasn’t entirely sure he wanted her in the middle of that cesspool of coughing and sniveling travelers. 

So they drove. Fifteen hours. In a car. With a newborn. Brilliant idea on both of their parts, really. 

His mom kissed him goodbye with this weird look in her eyes. Sad but happy. It almost reminded him of leaving for his first billet house and his stomach hurt. Mrs. Kane was meeting them at their house in Chicago. Which was fair. This was her grandchild too. But the idea of leaving his mom at that moment was worse than leaving her anytime before. 

David didn’t show up to say goodbye, but that wasn’t exactly shocking. 

*

The three weeks between Alice’s birth and the convention weekend felt pretty much like an eternity and a blink of an eye. Patrick’s mom stayed for a week, which had left them with six insanely scary days where they were fully responsible for a human life before Jonny’s mom flew down to take her for the time they needed to show up and do their due diligence.

In those seven days Jonny developed the skill to make a bottle with only one eye half open and Patrick mastered the middle of the night changing. Sharpy, the first they really explained the whole thing to, came over with his wife to really show how to change the diaper with all the business down there. They even survived their first blow out. A diaper that ended up with one baby outfit and two t-shirts in the trash, because there was no way Jonny was touching that. That was beyond nasty.

They’d let the powers that be know what was going on at the end of the season but had kept it as hush hush as possible when it came to fans. Patrick said it was because they wanted the time to adjust as a family but Jonny secretly thought it would be better... Just in case. In case something changed. 

The other players thought it hilarious, copies of “What to Expect in the First Year” strewn with the gaudiest pink toys that could be thought of. Tutus, blankets and bonnets (for the love of god) decorated their lockers. Jonny idly wondered if there was anything left in the American Doll store downtown.

(Plus they’d come out at the convention a few years back, why change what worked?)

Crashing the Dad panel to announce it was possibly a little unfair to the other guys there, but he blamed that entirely on Patrick. They didn’t show pictures, didn’t explain how she came to them but neither of them could hold back on the exhausted grins. 

“Would you let her date any of your teammates’ boys? Keith just had another boy a few months ago. Maybe you guys could start a dynasty!” 

Jonny coughed on a sip of water, picturing the look on Duncs’ face at the idea of a Toews-Kane-Keith dynasty. “Uh, I’m hoping she marries an accountant.” 

*

Jonny refused to have a Facebook account on the grounds of... well. Reality. So instead he set up a highly secured Instagram account to which he only gave his most trusted people access. It filled quickly with pictures of Patrick asleep with Alice on his chest. Of Sharpy meeting Alice and being instantly puked on. (GOLD!) A couple half assed selfies with the three of them mashed together, Alice truly bewildered by the whole thing. 

At three months his brother finally accepted the request and started liking the photos. 

A week later he got a text, “Good thing she got my looks. Can’t explain how she makes Kaner’s stupid faces though.” 

He had a point. 

*

The first time she slept through the night, Jonny woke up at five thirty with the sure knowledge that the worst had happened. The crib was on Patrick’s side, because even if Patrick wouldn’t admit it, he had just as many control issues as Jonny. He couldn’t see her properly and Jonny’s brain was so out of it that he just rolled over Patrick and off of the bed entirely with a loud thump. 

Alice was there. She was breathing. He saw the little swaddle blanket moving steadily up and down and okay. Breathing. He breathed too. Barely. 

“What the fuck?” Patrick groaned and then after a moment he was standing beside where Jonny was kneeling. “Wait, what the fuck?” 

“She’s sleeping,” Jonny whispered. 

Patrick knelt down next to him, probably to get a better view of her chest. The fact that he hadn’t made some dirty, “While you’re down there” joke was a perfect example of what the hell their life was right now. Kneeling down to make sure a four month old was breathing? Awesome. 

“What do we do?” 

Patrick seemed to take a long moment to think about it. “Sleep?”

The rational side of his brain agreed wholeheartedly. Sleep would be the best idea. Sex would be the best idea ever. But... he hadn’t seen Alice so peaceful in awhile. And they had a road trip coming up that would mean a week of seeing her over Skype being held by their capable, awesome nanny who still wasn’t him. 

“You go back to bed,” he offered. “I’ll take her out. Sleep in.” 

Patrick looked at Jonny like he’d hit his head but got up and slipped back into bed. 

He picked her up like he was picking up a bomb, tucked her under one arm and marveled at the fact that she almost was too big for this hold. He walked out into the hallway and into the kitchen, thinking of coffee and preparing a bottle and, hell, maybe even making actual food if she stayed asleep in the bassinet they kept for dinner time. He stopped when he heard footsteps behind him. 

“Dude,” he turned. “One of us should be sleeping.” 

Patrick didn’t bother looking abashed. “One of us is.” 

“Think we can get her into the bassinet and have actual breakfast?” 

Patrick bit at his lower lip, stared down at her and held his hands out. “Let me hold her.” 

He handed her off with a quirk of his lip. “You are such a sap.” 

“Columbus, Dallas, Carolina.” Patrick muttered, his lips graze the corner of Alice’s temple. 

And yeah. He got it. 

*

Near the end of the season Patrick’s wrist started acting up, nothing beyond the fact that he’d be playing harder than he should be and he was not exactly twenty-three anymore, so the staff put him on rest for the last two weeks of the season. They had clinched a playoff spot; they didn’t need to risk anything.

And Jonny was forced on a five day road trip and so damn jealous. 

Not that he didn’t love playing. He still had the sense God gave him. The ice had been home since he could remember. But home now had a different meaning, and he had never felt more homesick in his life even if it was just a five day stint. 

Patrick tried helping, sending about a thousand pictures a day. Videos of the two of them trying (and failing) to get her to walk. A picture of them playing at the Sharps’ house, Facetiming at a rate that would probably make the cell phone bill ludicrous, but he didn’t care. 

Even though it’d been years since he’d shared a room with anyone but Patrick, he still thanked every higher up that he got to have his own room He could only imagine what chirps he’d get by the sheer volume of time he spent on his laptop and phone. The room felt a little too big and entirely too quiet so he set up the Skype to just be on even when they weren’t talking. He admitted it was weird but he liked having the theme song to Henry Hugglemonster somewhere in the background. 

When the plane touched down in Chicago it was late... or early depending on how one looked at it, but he was the first off and out. He almost missed living in the condo because it would have been closer.

By the time, he got home he’d broken a half a dozen traffic laws and couldn’t care less. Patrick lay on the couch, on one side with his back awkwardly arched out to give space for the tiny ball that was Alice. As he caught sight of them he exhaled for the first time in a week, carefully dislodged his daughter (who barely noticed) and nudged Patrick until he finally got a belligerent response. 

“Whatzat? ”

“You’re already on rest for your wrist, why are you trying to fu-mess your back up?” Jonny whispered. 

Patrick blinked. “What time is it?” 

“Time to move to our bed, you jerk.” 

They passed by Alice’s room and she barely flinched when they set her down in the middle of their bed. Jonny smiled as he fell asleep. He was home. 

*

When the season ended it was bittersweet. They’d gotten so close Jonny could taste it… but it was over and their family was in the crowd. All of them. His daughter wrapped in far too many layers and fast asleep in his mother-in-law’s arms and being doted on by his own mother. His dad and father-in-law on their feet yelling belligerently at calls that were actually pretty fair and his brother seated there sandwiched between two of Patrick’s sisters. (Which they would have to talk about later.) 

It was stupid how it made him feel whole. Patrick looked like maybe he got it, and maybe he was just seeing it in the eyes of the players with families. Maybe he was making it up. But it did feel different knowing there was something else out there. 

He had to say something, though, as the captain. It wasn’t just his job but something he always felt honored to do. 

“Next year guys,” he said, going to the reliable cliché. “Next year.” 

His family, the rest of it, waited for him in the hallway and for the first time in his hockey career he didn’t have to force a smile for them. It just came naturally. 

*

 

Her first birthday was supposed to be small. “Supposed to be” being the key phrase because apparently saying “small” to Andree Gilbert and Donna Kane was as absurd as calling Patrick’s sense of style “subtle.” It was a giant sea of pink and white in his backyard. 

There was a bouncy house. He was most definitely not letting his one-year-old daughter into a bouncy house. She was barely able to take six steps without falling on her butt and even with the weirdly thick tutu that Carly had sent from Paris for her as protection he wouldn’t be talked into it. 

Also, how the hell did they know so many kids? He knew that his friends had bred like rabbits but seeing all of the collected brood running around was astounding. 

And David. David who’d just gotten through his first year at USC’s School of Physical Therapy. Who smiled and doted like an uncle should. He caught sight of Jonny and waved. He was mid-talk with his new girlfriend, Deidre, and their mom and he looked so happy Jonny couldn’t help but beam back. 

“I think it’s safe to say we’re entirely fu--freaking doomed.” Patrick came up beside him, a wriggling Alice in his arms. She’d started trying to mimic them about a week before. They’d been policing their language since. 

“Bouncy castle,” Jonny sighed. 

Patrick’s eyes went wide and it was almost like they had the same idea at the same time. “... think we can pawn this one off on one of the grandparents?” 

Jonny pointed to where his dad was sneaking some frosting off of the cake about ten feet to their left. “Wanna race?” 

He didn’t let him answer, shucked off his shoes and made a break for it. 

“NOT COOL TAZER!” 

And maybe they could do this. It was them, how could they not?

It ended with a contest. 

One Jonny was entirely sure he won.


End file.
